Glass and Feathers
by Rhianwen
Summary: Four perspectives on the upcoming marriage of Jack and Muffy.
1. Griffin

Glass and Feathers

----------------------------------------------

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters appearing or mentioned in this story. They are the property and creations of the people who came up with them and put them into a game about farming.

----------------------------------------------

Oh, lord; here we go.

Muffy's in love again.

I've been seeing the signs for a few days now, even before I found the remains of one of our cocktail goblets shoved to the back of the shelf under the bar.

Sliced my hand pretty good on the shards, too. Guess that's why I make her wear gloves when she's cleaning.

Did she think I wouldn't find it under there, or I wouldn't eventually notice a missing glass, or what?

Heh…maybe she just wanted to wait until there was no more rosy romantic haze for her tyrannical boss to ruin shouting at her.

See, Muffy's a great helper when she's not acting like a lovesick kid. She's quick, nimble, and mixes a damn cocktail better than I can on a good day. She's also friendly, attentive, considerate, and personable. The customers love her. Half of Forget-Me-Not is crazy about her.

That's what people come to the Blue Bar: get a drink, and get a smile from Muffy.

I couldn't ask for a better assistant.

During those brief and fleeting times after she's met someone but before she really gets to know him and find out how her bad luck with men'll kick in this time, it's a different story.

Wanders around with her head in the clouds, singing dopey love songs in that goddamned sweet, clear, perfect voice of hers, bumps into things, drops everything that's not bolted down, trips over everything that is, forgets where she is half the time and throws some Lysol into the cocktails, just for something new…

Lucky for us, that little guy Rock liked it, decided it really sharpened up the taste, and now it's a fad. If that kid wasn't half-crazy, we might've had a lawsuit on our hands.

Can't imagine trying to put together a coherent defense with a love-struck Muffy. Best chance we'd have is the judge falling madly in love with her when she flashed him that beautiful, infectious smile.

It could happen; old men who should know better have fallen for that smile before.

Although in my defense, that's just where it started. Now it's her smile, and her big bright blue eyes that let you know every single thing she's feeling until you could swear you're feeling it with her, and her laugh that makes you think you can smell spring in the middle of winter, and her cheek against mine when she falls asleep crying on my shoulder after some creep makes her feel like nothing.

I know it's cradle-robbing. Seventeen years apart. Not to mention, she acts about ten years less her age half the time. But I can guarantee that no one on earth will ever love that girl as much as I do.

Doesn't matter, anyway.

_Griffin…you've always been just like a father to me._

How many times has she said it? Not many girls going around falling for their father figures anymore.

It's probably just as well, although it gets harder to remember every time I have to climb up to the loft and sleep in her room because she fell asleep crying on my shoulder and it's hard to climb a ladder with a little tear-stained blonde angel in your arms.

It's her terrible luck with men that makes me damn sure I'll never have to worry about losing her completely to someone else, but I'm never sure if it's a good thing or not.

Because of course I hate seeing her wilt a little more every time she crawls into bed next to me and leaves wet tear spots on my shoulder and tells me that she's not going to be seeing Steve or Mike or Kevin or Dean again, every time more and more sure that this'll be the one she never gets over, the one that breaks her completely.

And yet, if she ever found the one that didn't send her home crying to the nice guy she works for, ever left me altogether, hell, I'm not sure I'd get over it.

I hope she figures it out someday, learns that she doesn't need a man to make her worth something, because something tells me that she won't have any luck with them until that; but part of me hopes it doesn't happen until I'm dead and buried.

Until then, good old Griffin'll be here to put her back together and rock her to sleep and make her laugh again when she wakes up with red swollen eyes.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. It just started a few days ago, so it should take her a couple more weeks at least to realize this one's like the rest and won't make her happy either.

Tonight, I'll listen to her gushing about her new boyfriend, how they met, how sweet he is, how he looks when he smiles. Then I'll play the guitar to make her stop talking about him before I hit her and hunt him down, and she'll sing. I'll have a couple weeks of pretending that it's me making her smile and laugh and daydream and pick out dish patterns before it ends as fast as it began, and then we'll do it all again.

The door creaks open, and I get ready for the routine.

But something's different this time.

She doesn't come bouncing in, grab us _something simple to drink, because no one mixes a drink like you, Griffin,_ and hop up to sit on the bar while she tells me all about her date.

This time, she slips in quietly, and just stands there at the end of the bar, watching me. She's got this small, peaceful smile, and this unbelievable kind of glow, like she's finally found everything she's ever wanted.

God, she's beautiful.

For a split second, I watch her, and I'm sure she's going to tell me she's figured out what I've known since she was sixteen and scrawny and couldn't balance a book on her head, let alone a tray full of drinks.

And hell, if she doesn't say it, I might.

I can feel myself moving across the bar towards her and her hair is soft and cool under my hand.

She's laughing now, softly, and I guess I can understand why, because when she threw herself at me like that, I must've jumped a foot in the air before moving to hold her.

_Kiss her!_

_Do it, you damn fool!_

I'm looking down at her, and her eyes are filled with tears, but she's still smiling, and I'm a second away from doing it, seeing if she tastes half as sweet as she does in my dreams, when looks away and hides her face in my shoulder.

"Griffin…the most amazing thing just happened. I-I didn't even know he liked me, but he just proposed. I can't believe it. Jack and I...we're getting married."

Funny. I could swear I just heard something break.

--------------------------------------------------------

End Notes: Did Griffin sound like Griffin? This is my main worry because I don't spend a whole lot of game-time at the Blue Bar in A/nother Wonderful Life.

Anyway, thank-you for reading/skimming/scrolling quickly to the bottom! Feedback is appreciated.


	2. Muffy

Chapter 2

* * *

I'm getting married. 

Next season.

To a young, handsome, sweet, amazing guy with a farm, who is far too good for me in almost every possible way, yet somehow went inexplicably crazy to propose to me and not change his mind seconds later.

It surprised me so much, I'd accepted before I even knew what was happening.

Although, he has been coming here awfully often over the past season to flirt across the bar while I serve other customers and avoid Griffin's kindly disapproving looks. And he always seems to find me when I'm not working, so we can wander around the woods and the hills and the shore for hours until we're both half-freezing and it's morning before we know it because we've been too busy talking and making stupid jokes that are _really funny_ at the time.

If nothing else, we've been good friends.

And that's good, being friends with your husband, isn't it?

This is everything I've ever wanted. By all accounts, I should be over the moon with joy.

So why do I feel like I could happily stay here, in the safety of my little loft, for the rest of my life and never come out again?

Griffin thinks I'm asleep, or out with Jack, or something. He must, because he's dragged out his guitar, but he's not playing like he usually does. Generally, when he plays in the evenings, it's something slow, but cheerful and comforting. The kind of thing that always makes me feel like I've got a home here and always will.

Tonight, it's slow and melancholy and heartbreak on guitar strings, and he would never play it if he knew I was listening.

He's made a hobby out of shielding sweet, innocent little Muffy from the world.

And after all, if he's never bothered to tell me that I'm more than just some silly little airhead he got roped into caring for, why would he do it now, when I can't tell him that he was _never_ just the nice man who gave me a job?

The Blue Feather on my night table catches my eye, and I can't help but smile.

Only Jack could possibly just _find_ a Blue Feather. They cost thousands in town, but he just stumbled over one on a walk through the woods. No common engagement ring for _his_ bride-to-be.

I can't say that I'm sorry. The feather is beautiful, all shimmery and silky and rainbow-ey when the light hits it, and I like the idea of such a romantic family heirloom.

And I wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of wearing a ring while working at the Blue Bar until the wedding, for Griffin to see everyday. Maybe a part of me knew, even before tonight when I could swear he almost kissed me, that he wouldn't take this news very well.

Although, it obviously wasn't the part I listen to, or I might not be lying here right now, crying silently for him, and for myself, and for Lumina.

I'd really like to know where she fits into all of this. I know how she feels about Jack; it was kind of hard to miss, with her shuffling into the Blue Bar the night Griffin and I nearly earned her eternal hatred by giving her a glass of chocolate milk and swearing up and down that it was a Brown Cow.

But I think I redeemed myself by letting her drag me off for a _girl talk_. She asked, fidgeting and blushing, if I thought that there was something inherently wrong in a relationship between a sixteen-year old girl and a twenty-eight-year old man. I think she almost swallowed her tongue when I suggested that she should be asking Jack what he thought, instead of me.

I might not be good for much, Lumina, but I could spot a potential romance from space, if I could find a cute astronaut to fly me up there.

That's what confuses me. Usually, I'm good at this, and I could have sworn Jack felt the same way about her. But I guess his older-brotherly kindness was enough to fool her, so why shouldn't it have fooled me, too?

It doesn't take a genius to figure out what convinced her to leave Forget-Me-Not Valley for that trip around the world that Romana devised to _expand the girl's horizons_. She's been adamantly against it – that's just common knowledge in town, because Romana's bemoaned her granddaughter's lack of taste for adventure to anyone who'll listen.

I know that a lot of people like to scoff at the idea that anyone under about twenty-five can actually fall in love, and be deeply hurt by it.

_A lot of people_ obviously have no memory of being sixteen.

I just hope they're right about some things, and she gets over it quickly, meets a handsome, amazing musician, falls madly in love, and has a wonderful, deliriously happy life.

By the time I stop daydreaming on Lumina's behalf, the music from the room below has long since stopped, and I swear I just heard a pained groan, followed by a sniffle.

Well, obviously, Griffin just has a cold. There's no way I made him _cry_. He just doesn't _do_ that!

Or maybe I've just never seen him really upset over anything.

And all because he's neurotic about having a "professional relationship"!

I can still remember coming out here, chasing after a job possibility listed in a regional newspaper, intent upon marrying a handsome country-boy and raising a litter of happy little boys and girls who would run around bare-footed and come inside to home-cooked meals.

Of course, I'd have to learn to cook first, but there was plenty of time for that.

Then, by the time I realized I'd be a terrible mother for more reasons than that my cooking is at its best when there's alcohol involved, it began to occur to me that the only _handsome country-boy_ I really cared about was sleeping about ten feet away from me, just down the ladder.

I tried to flirt a little bit, but I don't think he got the message. I couldn't bring myself to _really_ flirt, because I was terrified of him despising me for it.

Then, while I was in town on a shopping expedition, I ran into a nice guy, redhead, freckles, a little dumb, but sweet, and we had dinner together.

I came home and told Griffin, when he asked, that I'd been on a date.

He was not happy, and I thought I had finally found a way to the man's heart: through his caveman instinct of _MINE!_

Sadly, over time, the ploy became less and less effective, and I became more and more desperate to actually find a nice guy, since the one I wanted was clueless. Although, it was awfully nice when he'd snuggle me to sleep while I left little tear-spots all over his shirt.

And now that I've finally got an opportunity to return the favour, scurry down the ladder and crawl into his bed and snuggle him until he falls asleep, I can't, because I'm the one upset him in the first place.

Life really is funny sometimes, isn't it?

* * *

End Notes: Grrgh...I'm pulling the "seems unrequited but isn't" card. I feel a little cheap, but I adore Griffin/Muffy. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for reading. :) 

Also, I seem to recall that Lumina's age was listed at eighteen, but that seemed a bit old. She did NOT look eighteen to me. So, call it AU if you will, but in this story, Lumina is sixteen, or almost sixteen.


	3. Jack

Chapter 3

* * *

This has been the worst week of my life. 

_Yeah, right_, Rock snorted when I whined to him about this the other day over a case of beer on the solitude of the roof of my barn. _You're marrying a gorgeous, feisty blonde with more experience than all the other chicks around here put together. Sucks to be you, alright._

And he's right. Muffy is absolutely stunning. She's got a body that any sane man would club baby seals for, and these huge blue eyes that are always laughing at you, and make you feel like you'd walk through a fire to see them do it again. Not to mention, piles of blonde hair that'd probably cover all the basics if she ever wanted to try the Lady Godiva thing.

Now, _that_ would be a sight.

And she's sweet. She just is. She has this ingrained biological imperative to be best friends with everyone she meets, the day she meets them, and solve all of their personal problems within the week.

And she's funny. I've spent more time laughing this week than I have in the past two seasons.

She might not be the brightest girl, but she can hold a decent conversation.

I'm no wizard myself, and what guy wants a girl smarter than him, right?

So, yeah; she's perfect.

For anybody else.

In between meetings to feverishly plan out the meal with Ruby, and trips to town to see about buying a suit, and actually spending a second or two with the _bride_, my mind keeps wandering...somewhere else. I'll be in the middle of feeding, or cleaning out the barn, and images of light, silky fine brown hair and big brown eyes and this cute, tiny nose and constantly solemn expression and the most beautiful, graceful hands I've ever seen will drop on me like an anvil, and I'll have to sit down before I pass out from the effort to hold back a scream.

God, Lu, do you have any idea?

Sixteen years old, probably never kissed a boy, but one night with you and no one else'll do.

Jack, you fucking idiot. There were no flowers and hearts, and you damn well know that. Why the hell do you think she left?

Lumina...is special. In a little rural town like Forget-Me-Not, there aren't many people you can talk to about classical music, and the distinctions between _Baroque_ and _Classical_ and _Romantic_, and the respective strengths and weaknesses of the Bronte's. And I guess I like to harbour delusions that I'm a bit of a scholar.

Y'know, half-assed farmer, half-assed scholar, half-assed musician, half-assed chef. Gotta cover the basics.

And she's young, but she's brilliant. Far smarter than I was at her age, and far smarter than I am now if I was honest about it.

Which I'm not.

So, we became friends.

Romana was _so grateful_ that I would take the time to visit her granddaughter. Lumina was _so lucky_ to have an older, wiser friend like that nice boy Jack who runs the farm. I love the old lady – she gave me a _cat_, for God's sake – but she has it ass-backwards.

From Day One, Lumina put up with my hanging around to listen to her play, snooping through her books, and borrowing one if I could catch her in a good mood.

After a season, she'd actually gotten to the point that she'd leave off in the middle of a song when Sebastian let me in, and we'd spend all afternoon wandering through the village, talking about this book or that book, or the life of some composer she could barely pronounce but could play like a dream. I'm sure the composer himself is smiling in his grave somewhere, muttering that this kid's been inspired by the Angel of Music.

Hell, yeah, she's read _Le Fantome de l'Opera_. No translations for her, either. Read it in French. And she's sworn ever since that someday she's going to find her Erik.

I offered to throw a bucket of acid at Rock for her. She got mad and stormed home.

But she forgave me. It took five days of bringing her fresh flowers to put on top of the piano while she practiced to accomplish _that_ miracle, but it happened. And we went back to being good pals.

Then, like an idiot, I started thinking about her the rest of the time, while my mind should've been on the crops and the animals, or on a woman who didn't still wear pyjamas with little bunnies, or on anything but the slight curves of her tiny figure underneath those loose blouses and tee-shirts, the faint pink glow of her cheeks and the way her bangs stick to her forehead on hot days, and the curve of those soft pink lips when I can get her to smile.

And damn it, she could tell. Of course she could; she's Lumina. She's too smart for her own good.

It was another couple weeks before everything went to Hell, though. We were on another walk, late in the evening, because a farmer in autumn doesn't have time to just take off for strolls with pretty girls. When we hit the waterfall, she stopped, and started blushing and muttering like she was trying to tell me something but the words were choking her, and finally she just grabbed me by the shirt and kissed me.

It was so sudden, so totally out of nowhere, I didn't have time to prepare myself to push her away, and before I knew what I was doing, I was pushing her back against a tree and one hand was on a very dangerous path down over her shoulder, to her breast. She made this little whimpering noise and pushed closer into my hand, and I lost it.

Everything after that was a haze of soft sweet lips and skin and hair brushing my shoulder, skinny little legs wrapped around my waist, because from that first kiss, I was too far gone with need for this girl to know for certain what was happening.

Until afterwards, when she disentangled and pushed me away and went to clean up by the river.

She didn't look away fast enough to hide the tears dripping down her cheeks, but when she turned away I did get a close-up on the little dribbles of blood staining through the back of her shirt, probably where the tree bark scraped her.

She let me take her inside and clean them, make sure they didn't get infected. She even let me walk her home after, and right before we got to the Villa, she looked like she wanted to say something. Selfish asshole that I was, even after taking advantage of her I couldn't bear to hear that she hated me, and muttered something about _it's late and I need to get back_.

So I went home and waited for a visit from the police.

The police didn't come, but she did, three times. Each time, I turned tail and ran, hid inside the house with the doors locked and the lights out until she gave up and left. I wouldn't have hid from the police, wouldn't even have hid from Romana, and after what I did to her granddaughter, I'd rather face an army than her wrath.

But I couldn't face _her_. I couldn't trust myself to look her in the eye without hurting her again, so I hid like a coward and eventually she went away.

The third time, for good.

I ventured back into the village after a few days, because I'd had enough of dealing with this without alcohol. Went straight to the Blue Bar, and found out from Rock that Lumina had all but fled town.

Trip around the world with an aunt in better condition to travel than her grandma.

Thought she might go to school in Europe afterwards, if the auditions went well.

I don't know whether it was relief or despair that punched me in the gut when I heard that. Maybe it was just the drink. I swear there was Lysol in it or something.

Long after Jack had left, I was still there, downing drink after drink until Muffy suggested kindly that I might want to slow down.

I think I must've told her to go to Hell, because she gave me a good slap, before dragging me outside for some fresh air.

That was the first night we spent wandering aimlessly until dawn.

And after a season, I came to a decision.

I already said I'm a selfish asshole, right? What other kind of guy would propose to a good friend because he couldn't stand the thought of an empty house and a lifetime to wallow in his own pathetic guilt? I knew that I wasn't in love with Muffy, and I still do. I found the only girl I can love, did something terrible to her, and lost her.

And for good reason. The safest place for Lu is far away from me. And she deserves a lot better than a life on a farm, anyway. She's brilliant, and she's talented, and the whole world's going to know her name someday.

I'm not afraid for Muffy; she's a hell of a lot tougher than she looks. My cheek still hurts where she slapped me.

I think she's enjoyed the last season, too. And I know she's dying to get married.

Maybe that'll be enough to make us happy.

Speaking of my blushing bride, here she is. Just let herself in while I was brooding like an idiot. She bids me a cheery good evening, gives me a special protein drink she and Griffin mixed up because they thought I'd been looking pale lately, and then kisses me.

Shit. Last time a girl did this, it did _not_ end well.

But Muffy knows what she's doing, and before long, my shirt is untucked and she's working at my belt, and hell, I'm not complaining.

I pull her close for another kiss, and when we finally have to break it or pass out from reduced oxygen to the brain, I rest my cheek at her forehead and breathe her name.

Double-shit. She pulls back and now she's staring at me like I've got two heads, and finally it occurs to me that I just called her Lumina.

Okay, Muffy, go ahead; slap me. If you really want to, I'll hold still while you clobber me with a chair. I don't think you'd have the stomach to do what I really deserve right now.

But apparently, Muffy's got a little more class than that, and just pretends it didn't happen.

Or tries to, anyway.

Finally, she just gives up in despair and says something about having an early day tomorrow, so she thinks she's going to head home now.

As the door closes behind her, I lock up and then proceed to bang my head against the heavy wood until my whole forehead goes numb.

Did I mention that this has been the worst week of my life?

* * *

End Notes: O-kay. This chapter scared the crap out of me to write. I know what I needed to get across, but I have no idea if it makes any earthly sense as it is. And I'm really hoping that the anguish I'm putting the characters through now makes up for the fact that this is all turning out to just be one big misunderstanding, with an inevitable happy ending. 

My other big problem is whether or not Jack's character voice is consistent throughout his section. That's the problem with a character that never talks: it's up to the author to establish a lot of his characterization, and I suck at consistency when I'm not working from an existing character.


	4. Lumina

Chapter 4

* * *

I hate boys. 

I know that Jack is twenty-eight years old, and hasn't thought of himself as a _boy_ in years, but if he's going to act like one, that's what I'm going to call him.

Because that's _exactly_ what he's acting like right now.

When I went to see him the first time the day after we, um, were lovers – after I finished my practicing for the day, because Grandma only lets me leave off in the middle of a song when _Jack_ comes to see _me_ – I saw him working in the fields from far back down the road.

Yet, when I got up to the farm, he was nowhere to be found, and all the lights were off in the house.

I think he was hiding under the bed. Coward.

Then he the same thing two more days.

And then _I_ proved that sometimes, girls can act just as dumb as boys, and ran away on that trip with Aunt Penelope after all. I thought _obviously he's sorry it happened, because he doesn't like me as much as he thought he did, or his conscience has just caught up with what's below the waist and he's realized that it's wrong to play with a girl's emotions just because he wants to bed her_.

Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done, and maybe I should have kept trying until he _had_ to talk to me, but I just couldn't stand the thought of him explaining, kindly and gently, that I was a _beautiful girl_, but he needed a _woman_, and he didn't want to wait for me to become one.

It was even worse to think about him giving me these guilty little half-smiles and all but running away whenever we met on the road, and never taking me out for walks anymore because he didn't want to _lead me on_ any further.

I never _expected_ him to feel the same way, you know. I fell for him in seconds, because Grandma says that just what girls _do_ when they're sixteen and silly, but he's twenty-eight, and handsome, and talented, and witty, and amazing, and I never expected him to notice a teenage would-be piano prodigy who couldn't cook or sew or plant as anything other than a _baby sister_. But when he started looking at me like maybe he _did_ feel the same way, I couldn't just let the chance slip past until he fell madly in love with Celia or someone.

And then, when he started acting like he regretted what happened, like he _didn't _feel the same way but couldn't bring himself to break my fragile young heart, I turned as much of a coward as him and ran away.

But at least _I'm_ showing signs of growing up; when that letter came from Muffy – _Lumina, Jack cares very deeply for you, and I know you cared for him the night you came to talk to me a little while before you left. If you still feel the same way, please write to him and patch things up, because I don't know what happened, but I do know you're both miserable, and that's silly, when you could both be happy with just a little bit of effort. You're two of the most wonderful people I know, and you deserve only joy and happiness – and a little bit of pain and sadness, too, but you can still go through it together!_

I think Muffy must have been either very excited or very drunk when she wrote it, although it took so long for the postal service to finally track down Aunt Penelope and me that she probably doesn't remember which it was anymore.

Yes, _I've_ grown up, but _Jack_ doesn't seem in any danger of it.

He has a right to be shocked; I've just materialized out of nowhere, creased and messy from a fourteen-hour plane ride, and confessed by undying love.

After letting myself into his house and climbing into bed next to him.

He thought it was Muffy; I'll have to get the whole story when I'm done pounding some sense into him. For such a flirt, Muffy is surprisingly old-fashioned, and I'd like to know why he didn't know that, when they're good enough friends that he's told her all about his fractured love life.

And now the idiot is trying to push me towards the door! I'd be really, really mad, if he didn't look so cute in striped pyjamas, with his hair sticking up in every direction.

"Lu, we can talk tomorrow," he tells me pleadingly, reaching past me to open the door.

None of this, Jack. I didn't cleverly evade Auntie and come tearing back home from Spain just to be pushed aside. The door slams shut.

"Or we could talk now."

He sighs, but he does let go of my arm and doesn't stop me when I follow him to the bed.

"What happened to your trip?"

I grin.

"I'm sure Aunt Penelope is still enjoying herself. She'll get used to fending for herself, surrounded by all those handsome Spanish men."

"What about school?"

"That doesn't start until autumn," I scoff. "I suppose I'll go meet Auntie sometime before then. Unless…" I choke a little on the words, even though I've just gone through fourteen hectic and nerve-wracking hours to say them. "Unless I get a better offer."

He smiles briefly.

"You're hoping for better than a full music scholarship to one of the best schools in Europe? You're good, Lu, but that's just cocky."

"You know what I mean," I huff, but if anyone ever tells you that I stomped my foot, they're a rotten liar. "I would much rather stay in Forget-Me-Not Valley if I could. For example, if this nice, handsome farmer I'm a little bit madly in love with would get his act together and marry me."

"I can't."

I turn Grandma Romana's patented Angry Eye on him.

"Why not, exactly?"

"You deserve better."

"And Muffy doesn't deserve better?"

His expression right now is priceless.

"I guess you heard."

"She told me in her letter," I tell him unconcernedly.

He chokes.

"Letter?"

"She told me about the wedding, and she told me that she wasn't going to go through with it, because she's not in the habit of marrying men who are in love with someone else." I don't tell him what she told me about Mr. Griffin, because there's really no reason – if I know Muffy, she would be doing this even if it meant life as a lonely old lady with forty cats.

"And she told you to cut your trip short and come racing back here?"

"Actually, she suggested that maybe I should write to you and patch things up, if I still felt the same way. And I do. If—if _you_ still do."

He groans and hunches over, burying his face in his hands. Oh, it's not so bad, is it, old man?

"Come on, Lu. You know I love you. But I can't trust myself around you. You know that, too."

Alright, what is he on about now?

"And why can't you trust yourself?" I ask very calmly, like a grown-up trying to reason with a little boy. He's crossing a wide range of ages today, isn't he?

"I can't risk hurting you again."

"By marrying me?"

"Like the night we…Lu, I didn't even _ask_ you."

"I didn't try to push you away, you dummy."

"You were crying."

I…was I? It's hard to remember, because between the giddy delight of knowing that he _did_ want me after all and the four hours I spent that night mentally decorating our house of dreams, and the panic of suspecting that he was avoiding me because he didn't want to lead me on anymore, I can't really remember.

"I think I was embarrassed," I finally tell him. "I've never done it before, so I wasn't very good."

He laughs, but it doesn't sound particularly happy.

"You were just fine, Lu."

Before I can do more than sort of blush and hide, the door bangs open, and I go spinning back as two hands latch onto Jack's shirt and haul him away.

By the time I manage to dust off my traveling clothes and my dignity, Griffin is already well into his frothing-at-the-mouth tirade.

"So it's true, huh? You just got tired of her, is that it?" the bartender growls, tightening his grip on Jack's collar until these funny choking noises start to emerge. "You had some fun with her, and decided on a younger model? I knew I was crazy to expect that you'd treat her any better."

I have the strangest feeling I should be doing something to stop this, but I'm absolutely mesmerized by the swinging motion of Jack's feet as Griffin shakes him.

And, as it turns out, it hardly matters, because seconds later, the door bangs open again, and a streak of blonde and red blue and and dusty, bruised bare feet flies at the wrestling match and hauls Griffin away from Jack.

"I asked you to _wait_!" Muffy exclaims furiously. "I was in the middle of a story, and if you men would just _listen_, you could have saved yourself a lot of embarrassment! And anyway, you know it's not good for you to get so worked up."

I move to help Jack up, and we both stare in wonder as Muffy continues to scold her boss, almost two decades her senior.

"Just so you know," she finally concludes softly, "I wrote Lumina and asked her to come back."

Now, I really must interject. I may be harbouring a grudge with both of them for breaking up my alone-time with Jack just when we were getting somewhere, but that doesn't mean I'll let Muffy take all the blame for this.

"Um, you just said to write to Jack."

She fixes me with a stern look.

"Sweetie, I remember being sixteen. I knew you'd come back."

"That doesn't change anything," Griffin tells her, glare almost drilling holes in Jack, who is trying very, very hard not to look at anyone in the room. "You're a sweet girl, and she's a sweet girl, and you don't want to take another girl's boyfriend. Makes sense. But he still proposed, and gave you a lot of time to get your hopes up."

By this point, I'm almost dancing in place trying to contain my secret special knowledge, and if Muffy doesn't tell Griffin what she told me very soon, I'm going to do it.

She's had her chance to meddle in my love life, right? Now it's my turn.

"Um, actually," she begins, blushing beautifully pink, "I was going to call off the wedding anyway. And not _only_ for Lumina's sake. I, um, sort of have someone else in mind."

Ohh, he's not going to get it from _that_, Muffy! You have to spell it out with these men! Even when they're supposed to be old and wise.

Griffin, for example, is looking like he's just been punched.

"Oh, yeah? Well, that's great, kiddo."

"He's a little older than me, and he has this complex about his age, but he's sweet, and gentle, and easygoing, and he's _amazing_ on the guitar. Although, he has a bit of a violent streak," she finishes teasingly. "And I don't think he would catch a hint if it fell on him."

He stares, incredulous joy almost radiating from him. Then he forces it resolutely away.

"You sure about this, Muffy? I'm a lot older--"

"Oh, enough!"

What a scene! Three adults staring blankly at a little teenage girl in the process of having a hissy-fit.

"She loves you, you idiot, she told me so! And you love her, or you wouldn't have tried to strangle Jack before bothering to get the whole story. So why on earth is a few years age difference any good reason to not be together? You know, it's not like you're _so_ much wiser and more mature than she is – quite the opposite, just like _all_ men. Now, both of you, go back to your bar and talk about this without an audience, because believe it or not, we were in the middle of something."

"R-right," Muffy agrees, choking back a laugh. I wish she wouldn't – I like Muffy's laugh. It's pretty, just like Celia's.

"Sorry about the manhandling, Jack," Griffin finally thinks to add, and Jack just sort of grins nervously.

"No problem, man. Just...punch me instead next time."

"Jack, lend Muffy some shoes; she's going to hurt herself walking over that road in bare feet," I order imperiously, and seeing a six-foot-two twenty-eight-year old man scurrying to obey a five-foot-nothing sixteen-year old is another sight to behold.

Finally, they're gone, and the door is locked again. Some miracle let Takakura sleep through the whole scene – or at least, decide he would be an overall happier man if he didn't get involved – so there are no more interruptions.

"So?" I prompt when several moments go by without a word from Jack.

He laughs.

"Are you kidding? After that, I'm never going to cross you again." Then he sobers. "But Lu, are you sure?"

I show him just how _sure_ I am by climbing into his lap and snuggling against his shoulder. Yes, Grandma, of course I'm being _very_ forward, but I'm hoping to be a lot more forward before the night is through.

* * *

It was an evening wedding, and all things considered, it was really beautiful. 

Oh, not mine and Jack's, of course; no, even before Grandma got through with him he had decided that we weren't getting married for at _least_ the four years of my scholarship, and possibly more if I was offered a touring opportunity.

I, of course, am furious, but helpless before the combined will of the two most irritatingly stubborn people I know.

It seems that Jack has gotten over being afraid of me.

But we do have the rest of the summer, starting with holding hands and giving each other syrupy-sweet looks all through the wedding – Griffin and Muffy's. It's a little funny, that they've spent so long living together, yet from the night I got back to Forget-Me-Not and _he_ almost killed my fiancé, he's insisted that she stay at the Inn.

She shared a room with Nami. _That_ must have been interesting.

Grandma let them hold the wedding in the front hall of our house, in the evening, because both the bride and the groom are far too used to sleeping until noon and staying up all night for a morning wedding.

The reception, naturally, was at the Blue Bar, and Jack is a horrifically mean person, because I was looking _so_ forward to finally trying one of Griffin's famous cocktails, but he strictly forbid it, and glared at Rock when he tried to sneak me a glass of wine.

I suppose he _would_ have had to answer to Grandma if I'd come home reeking of alcohol.

At least I can be consoled by the fact that no one else got to drink Griffin's cocktails. Celia and Marlin thought it wasn't fair that he had to spend his own wedding reception serving guests, so they took over the mixing duties. Jack says Marlin actually mixes a decent Martini, and he should have known. And Celia came up with a wonderful creation for the under-age drinkers (me), all foamy and strawberry-flavoured and topped with whipped cream, so I forgave Jack and let him kiss me goodnight when he dropped me off.

Alright, if you must know, I jumped on him and dragged him behind a bush for several minutes.

I suppose it all ended well, and no one _really_ got hurt.

And anyway, Aunt Penelope says that a little drama makes life interesting.

All the same, I think I can do without it in the future; being happy is a lot nicer than being interesting.

* * *

End Notes: Hee! Okay, so this ended with a huge dose of fluff. What can I say? I am so, so not good at sustained angst and sad endings. Well, despite the fluff, I hope you enjoyed it, and thank-you for reading. :) 


End file.
